(This occurs shortly after David Bowie’s death. I am in line behind another customer.)

Customer: “Just this, thanks.”

Worker: *blank stare*

Customer: “Hello?”

Worker: *startled* “Oh, sorry. I zoned out there. I was thinking of David Bowie.”

Customer: “I know. So sad.”

Worker: “Very.”

Customer: “That is why I’m getting this.” *hands over a copy of the movie “Labyrinth”* “I haven’t seen it in so long. Thought I’d treat myself.”

Worker: “Oh, yeah. I love this.”

Customer: *starts singing* “You remind me of the babe.”

Worker: *serious* “What babe?”

Customer: “Babe with the power.”

Worker: *blank stare*

Me: *shrugs* “What power?”

Customer: *turning to me* “Power of voodoo.”

Me: “Who do?”

Customer: “You do.”

Me: “Do what?”

Customer: “Remind me of the babe!”

(We both laugh while the worker stares at us, confused.)

Worker: “What on earth was that?”

Customer: “Magic Dance. You know, Bowie, Labyrinth.”

Worker: “I’ve never seen it.”

(The customer and I looked at each other, confused.)

(A new duty manager has started with us. We come in after an extended weekend to find the entire menu changed and half the stock missing.)

Me: *after checking the stock* “What the h*** is going on?”

Manager: “Who was here on Saturday?”

Duty Manager: “Hello! My, isn’t it a mess in here?!”

Manager: “[Duty Manager], do you know anything about this? Half the stock is missing.”

Duty Manager: “Oh, I came in yesterday and cleansed the menu. It’s shocking how little of it was kosher!”

Manager: “Kosher? But we aren’t a kosher restaurant.”

Duty Manager: “Well, you should be. I’m Jewish and you should be sensitive to my religious beliefs.”

Manager: “But, we already have kosher selections. Are you seriously expecting our customers to be sensitive to your beliefs as well? What about [My Name]? He’s Jewish and doesn’t have a problem with it.”

Duty Manager: “He’s probably just a convert. I have real blood in my veins.”

Me: “Well, not that your accusation isn’t insulting enough, but if we’re dealing with respecting beliefs, shouldn’t we only have halal on the menu, as well, because of [Colleague]?”

Duty Manager: “Oh, no. It’s only the Jews you have to care about, because of the Holocaust.”

Manager: “What?!”

Duty Manager: “We deserve something back.”

(We’re all stunned into silence for a moment.)

Me: “Well, I guess I’m owed twice then, because I’m Jewish and gay.”

Duty Manager: “See?! You aren’t a real Jew, because Jews can’t be gay.”

Manager: “I’ve had enough. In my office, now!”

(We were forced to close after that day for a week to restock, and the duty manager worked that shift refusing to leave the office. About £15,000 of food was lost because of her, which the owner decided to pay themselves to avoid any further complications when dealing with conflicts of religion. It was mutually agreed that the duty manager should simply leave. Today as I was walking to work I bumped into her, causing her bacon sandwich to spray across the ground. I stared in disbelief as she tried to pick up the remains. When she recognised me, she screamed, “IT’S HARD SOMETIMES!” before storming off.)

(I am at the gate, ready to board the plane. I hand my ticket to the flight attendant.)

Flight Attendant: “You are already on the plane.”

Me: *standing in front of her outside the plane, at the gate* “Umm, no?”

Flight Attendant: “Someone with your name is already in your seat.”

Me: “Obviously, she is not me.”

(There were two women with the same first name, last name, and middle initial on the flight. Apparently, their computers couldn’t handle that. We even had the same seats on our tickets, but with different confirmation codes. They ended up putting me in an empty seat.)

(It is about 15 years ago. I’m flying from Glasgow to Southampton. This entire situation reminds me of something my mother told me as a child, about being questioned whenever she flew due to our family’s Irish last name. This is my first time flying alone. I am stopped at security and escorted to a room.)

Officer #1: *not even looking at my passport* “Where in Ireland were you born?”

Me: “Umm, Manchester, in the UK?”

(Both officers are writing, but I notice [Officer #1] writing a name I don’t recognise.)

Officer #1: “And when was the last time you visited the UK?”

Me: “I was born in the UK. I haven’t even been to Ireland.”

([Officer #2] stops writing and looks at my passport, while [Officer #1] writes. “four years.”)

Officer #1: “And when do you intend to return home?”

Me: “I don’t live in Ireland.”

([Officer #2] gives [Officer #1] a funny look, and looks like she’s about to laugh.)

Officer #1: “And what is your reason for travelling to the UK?”

Me: “I live here?”

Officer #2: *before [Officer #1] opens his mouth again* “[Officer #1]! You need to actually listen to him!”

Officer #1: “Huh?” *looks at me*

Me: “I don’t come from Ireland. I’m a UK citizen.”

Officer #1: “What?” *finally looking at my passport* “Oh, sorry. It looks like I got you mixed up!”

(He blushes as he rushes out of the room. [Officer #2] rolls her eyes before addressing me.)

Officer #2: “Sorry about that; he’s new. We have an Irish person detained also, because of drugs charges. I think he brought you in because of your last name.”

Me: “I see. Nice bit of profiling there.”

Officer #2: “You have no idea. I’ve been on your side more times than enough. Islam makes everyone nervous nowadays. I’m tempted to quit, actually. Well, let’s get this over with. You don’t want to miss your flight!”

([Officer #2] finished my questioning and I was sent on my way, sprinting to my flight. The whole situation was very strange, but what worried me the most were the answers [Officer #1] was writing down. It makes me wonder what they actually know before they question you.)

(Christmas is coming, so we are shipping a lot of items. A customer has placed an order over the phone and I ship him his packages. Two days later, he calls asking where his order is. I check the tracking, which shows the package as delivered and says that it was left on his porch that morning. The customer says this is not the case, nor is this the first time his packages have gone missing with this shipping company. I file for a refund and insurance with the shipping company and send a replacement. The next day, I get an unexpected call.)

Cop: “Hi, this is [Officer]. I was hoping you could clear some things up. We have been finding a number of packages left at a vacant house located at [Address] Road. We are investigating this activity, but I found a package recently shipped by your company to a [Customer]. I was wondering if this was a legitimate purchase?”

Me: “Yes, I shipped a package to [Customer], but the address was [Address] Street, not Road.”

Cop: “Well, you have the address correct on the package. Can you contact the customer and verify the address is [Address] Street? I can take it around to him and see if he can clear some things up.”

(I do, and the customer later calls me to say the police officer brought his package to him and asked him to open it to verify the contents. He then left a statement about other packages that had gone missing recently. A day later I get another call.)

Cop: “Hi, this is [Officer] again. We found another box from your company sent to [Customer] but delivered to the abandoned house.”

Me: “That must be the replacement package I shipped to [Customer] before you called me.”

Cop: “Do you need this to get to [Customer] or does it need to be sent back to you?”

Me: “Well, it’s a low value order, it’s been taken out of inventory, and [Customer] already has his package, so it doesn’t matter too much.”

Cop: “Would you mind if we left it here? We want to see if someone comes to pick up the package.”

Me: “No problem.”

(The next day he calls back.)

Cop: “I’d like to thank you for your cooperation, and I was wondering if we could get a statement from you? The shipping company had a seasonal driver who was leaving packages at similarly named street addresses that were empty houses. His brother would go around and pick them up that night.”

Me: “Wow! No problem. What do you think the chances of the shipping company refunding me the $25 are?”

Cop: “Considering I talked to the driver’s boss, and he claimed he knew this was an issue for months, it was an honest mistake, and that the driver was just reading the labels incorrectly in the same manner?”

Me: “Not worth the red tape. Gotcha.”

(I sent copies of what the police sent me to corporate, who decided to start using a different shipping company.)